And she wasn't fighting him. She didn't have the strength to fight him. Instead, her fingers gripped his shoulders, her lips parted further, and her tongue stroked against his, tasted him, drew him into her like the sweetest nectar.
It was exquisite. The taste and the feel of him.
It was like drowning in dark heat and forbidden hunger, and for precious seconds Mikayla allowed herself the sheer luxury of having exactly what she wanted, exactly how she wanted it.
She wasn't going to fall in love with him, she promised herself. This was not going to mess up her plans for her future, because she simply wouldn't allow it to.
It was just a moment out of time, she promised herself.
She could have this moment.
She could have his lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her, holding her against the rock-solid heat of his chest, feeling his heart beat against her br**sts, the hard outline of his erection beneath his jeans, pressing into her lower stomach.
God, she wanted him.
Straining closer, she fought for a deeper kiss, more touch. She wanted to feel him against every inch of her body. She needed him at this moment like she needed the very air to breathe.
Just for a moment.
"Such a good girl," he murmured as his lips sipped from hers, his hands shaping, then cupping the rounded curves of her rear as he lifted her, pressed her against the wall, and let her feel him.
"Aren't you supposed to be fighting, Mikayla?"
The hard wedge of his c**k pressed firmly between her thighs, hot, thick, a solid weight of arousal behind the leather pants he wore.
The thin silk of her stylish short skirt rode up her thighs, leaving only a narrow band of silk between the leather and her dampening flesh.
Her panties were no barrier. She felt too much; the sensations traveled too deep.
"I am fighting." She bit at his lips for not kissing her, for daring to pull away from her.
At the nip, he seemed to freeze, then a harsh growl of hunger tore from his lips and he was kissing her as though the sheer act of thrusting his tongue inside her mouth, stroking against hers, mimicking the act their bodies were suddenly desperate for, would somehow assuage a hunger Mikayla knew she was never going to be free of.
His hand slid beneath the skirt, calloused fingertips touching bare flesh only a breath from the elastic band of her panties.
She wanted his fingers there. She wanted them sliding beneath the material. She wanted him touching her.
Rocking against the press of his erection, she allowed her fingers to bite into his shoulders as his lips slanted over hers, the hunger deepening, the need tearing through her.
She couldn't have him.
She couldn't have this.
She wanted it.
She wanted it with a force threatening to drive her insane as she suddenly found herself free of him, standing against the wall, staring back at him in shock.
His hair was loose and flowing along his shoulders. Had she done that? Slipped the leather strap free of his hair?
She must have. It was tangled in her fingers, the warm leather gripped in her hand as she stared back at him, drawing in deep, ragged breaths.
He was no less affected. His eyes blazed with need.
No man had ever burned for her like this. Mikayla had never inspired great passion until now.
And God help her, if she didn't have more of it, then she just might do something she rarely did.
She was going to cry.
"How much do you want, good girl?" His fingers slipped just beneath the edge of her panties, feathering over the swollen, curl-laden flesh that dampened further at the feel of his touch.
"How much?" How much did she want? She wanted everything. All of it. She wanted to forget why she was supposed to protest, and take everything she could get.
"A little?" He breathed a kiss over her lips as his finger feathered against the curls with the lightest caress. "Or a lot?" His finger slipped past the curls of her swollen sex and slid gently between them.
Her lips parted on a gasp of shock, of exquisite pleasure.
"So which do you want, good girl?"
Chapter 6
Nik wanted it all.
Staring into Mikayla's exceptional violet gaze, he watched the slumberous sensuality take over as his finger rubbed against the snug entrance of her slick, heated pu**y.
He wanted nothing more than to slip his finger inside her, to feel the tight grip of intimate flesh, the ripple of pleasure as it raced through the velvety flesh.
Instead, he only caressed the clenched entrance. He only touched her gently, easily.
"You should wax here," he suggested, watching her eyes flare again, watching the mingled shock and hunger as it raced through her. "You would feel the lightest breath of a touch then. Your sweet, sensitive flesh would be bare for me, Mikayla. No matter the touch of my fingers, my lips, my cock. You'd feel it as though each nerve ending were na**d to my touch."
The sweet, heated flow of her juices trickled against his fingertips, slickening them further as a little gasp of breath parted her lips.
"Please." The little plea was a rasp of sound from her throat.
"Please what, sweet baby?" He brushed his lips against hers.
"Please, don't do this to me."
He stared down at her, seeing the confusion, the pleasure, in her gaze, and he knew in that heartbeat that it had taken everything inside her to make that plea.
He heard the words, just as he felt the response in her slender, fragile body. She was arching to him, reaching for him, her body shuddering as it fought for orgasm, even as she whispered the plea that he let her go.
He could give it to her. Just a little. With nothing more than his fingers he could bring her to cl**ax, showing her what she was attempting to deny.
That would be cheating, he thought. He wanted her begging for what he could give her, tortured with the need to know what waited on the other side.
Not knowing, imagining, wondering what she had pulled away from could in ways be more powerful than knowing.
His finger slid from the clenched opening, slipped upward, circled her straining clit, then pulled away.
He wasn't finished with her, not by a long shot. As she stared up at him, that beautiful gaze sinking into his soul, he brought his fingers to his lips and let himself taste her.
The taste of her exploded against his tongue like liquid sunshine. Fresh, vibrant, a hint of sweetness and spice that he knew he could so easily become addicted to.
Her eyes widened as she watched, her lips parting. Swollen cherry red lips. He could easily imagine them parted, those eyes staring up at him as he let himself f**k the sweet recess of her mouth.